Someone Else’s Life(46)

“There’s a reason for that.” Serena’s voice was low.

Annie stilled at the strange statement. Reason? What reason?

“Don’t beat yourself up.” Serena sat back on her haunches. “It doesn’t mean you love him any less. Some women just don’t get all gushy and mushy. But let me ask you something: If Finn were in danger, would you think twice before trying to save him? At your own risk?”

Annie was about to say that his life had been in danger, and she’d been sleeping on the beach, but she snapped her mouth shut. It was one thing to admit she hadn’t had that maternal love at first sight, but she wasn’t about to give Serena an example of how she was a bad mother. She thought about the question. Would she? If the house were burning down and she knew Finn was inside, would she run in and save him? And relief coursed through her when she realized the answer was yes.

She sat up and faced Serena. “I would. I would save him from a burning building. I would save him if someone was trying to hurt him.” If I had known he was in danger in the woods, I would have run to him. I thought he was safe with Lindsay.

She wished there were something she could do to help Finn. When he was awake, he was fine, as if nothing had happened. But at night, it was a different story. He’d had another nightmare the other day. She’d been reading on the couch after he’d gone to bed and Brody was in the bedroom watching TV.

Images from that night flashed through her mind. Finn had mumbled something in his sleep from the mattress on the floor, and Annie had tensed. She waited, hoping he’d quiet down and stay asleep, but the mumbling got louder until she could make out words. She stood, ready to soothe him, but it was too late. He shot up in bed, yelling, “No! Lindsay! No! Lindsay! Lindsay!”

In the next instant, she was by his bed and knelt to gather him into her arms, rocking him as he sobbed against her. She made soothing noises, listening to the anguish in his voice as he cried and mumbled Lindsay’s name over and over again.

Then she’d looked up at Brody standing in the bedroom doorway. Their eyes met. Annie knew he felt as helpless as she did. They hadn’t been with Finn when he’d needed them most. They had no idea what had happened to Lindsay, the teenage girl who’d been watching him while Annie napped at the lake beach.

Annie’s mind brought up an image of Lindsay’s face as she imagined it’d looked that day, her eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky. Had whoever killed Lindsay threatened Finn, told him not to tell anyone what happened or they would get him? Or had they been after Finn too, and he’d escaped before they could get him? Coldness stabbed through her heart at the thought. Even after months of therapy sessions, all the therapist had been able to get out of him was that there had been a woman in the woods with them. Finn hadn’t said much to the therapist in New York. She’d said he was detached, just sitting there, no expression on his face. He hadn’t drawn anything that would have given them a clue when the therapist asked him to draw what had happened. It was only at night, while he slept, that his terror came out.

When Finn had finally quieted down, Annie wiped his face with her shirt and tucked him back into bed. She watched him for a moment, her poor tortured little boy. His forehead was creased, and even though he was asleep, he looked like he was carrying a heavy burden on his little shoulders. She’d been hoping being away from the place where the tragedy had happened would stop the nightmares.

Annie let out a sigh, confusion clouding her brain when Serena spoke. It took a moment for her to focus back on the other woman, as the echoes of Finn’s screams receded in her mind.

“Well, there you go,” Serena was saying. “You have the maternal instinct. It’s just a different degree. Everyone is different.” She got off the floor and went back to the couch, a satisfied look on her face.

Annie thought about what she said and suddenly felt lighter. Serena was right. Who had ever said there had to be a certain amount of instinct for one to be considered maternal? Why hadn’t anyone else in her life ever understood her the way Serena did? Feeling bolder, she decided to share more with her new friend. “I really thought there was something wrong with me. That, because of all the bad luck that happened to me the year Finn was born, I was broken somehow.”

Serena wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us. They just don’t get it.”

“But you do.” Annie swallowed the sudden lump that appeared in her throat. “You get it. I’m so glad I invited you in.”

“Me too.” Serena picked up her glass again and swirled the wine in it. “It feels like we’ve been friends forever.” She looked at Annie, suddenly shy.

“I know.” Annie tilted her head. “It’s weird, right? Why do you think we feel like this? Is it all a coincidence, or do you think there’s something sinister going on?” She had meant it as a joke, but Serena suddenly put her glass down and sprang up.

She rubbed a hand over her eye and grimaced when it came away with makeup. “Ugh, I must look like a raccoon. Why didn’t you tell me? I need to wash my face.”

“It’s just a little smudged. You don’t look like a raccoon.”

But Serena had already bolted into the bathroom. Annie stared after her. She realized she’d never asked Serena why she’d made references that suggested she knew Annie better than she should when they were on the call with Julia and Izzy. She’d been distracted by finding Serena crying over Johnny.